


Unusual Way To Eat Ice Cream

by LadybugsFanfics



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Ice Cream, Implied Sexual Content, Pranks, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21771688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadybugsFanfics/pseuds/LadybugsFanfics
Summary: Part of @/my-emotional-self writing challenge. The prompt is“do you really need all that ice cream?”
Relationships: Chris Evans (Actor)/Reader
Kudos: 7





	Unusual Way To Eat Ice Cream

Chris is going to regret the day he decided to give you a spare key to his house―you know, the “you’re one of the friends I have that I trust with a key if something were to happen” and also “for the times you watch Dodger for me”. 

At the time, you know he’s not home, which is the perfect time to sneak into his house. It isn’t easy being quiet as you do so, because a dog rushes your way the second you open the door. 

Dodger jumps, wagging his tail and licking you every place he can reach. You sit down and greet him properly, hoping that by giving him enough love now, he will let you be when you’re going to find your hiding spot in a few moments. 

Getting back up as the dog relaxes a bit, you move to Chris’s living room. You stand in the middle for a few moments, wondering where to best hide so that he doesn’t see you. Behind the couch is obvious, and he’ll notice you if he shuffles around. Under the curtain is being a child―’I can’t see you, so you can’t see me’ mentality―and either way, it doesn’t reach the floor well enough to cover all of you. It makes it harder this being a big house. You’re not even sure he’ll end up in the living room. 

Nonetheless, as the sound of a car on gravel comes from outside, you scatter to―well, behind the couch. Dodger has followed you around, and lies down beside you, lovingly turning around for you to scratch his belly. You roll your eyes and try to shoo him away, though you can’t help smile.

Keys clattering and the sound of Chris humming helps. The dog shoots up and runs to meet his owner. A smile plays on your lips, knowing how much the two love each other. It grows bigger as you hear Chris laugh, probably at Dodger’s eagerness. 

After a few more moments, the male moves. You hear shuffling feet and dog paws padding after. The sounds travel in another direction and you try not to let out a sound by cursing in your head. But luck turns your way again when the footsteps come closer, and not long after does Chris plummet down on the couch. 

The TV turns on, and you take a peek up from where you sit to find him with a box of ice cream and a spoon. By the table stands a bottle of chocolate cover, which you can see he’s already used―but by the size of the ice cream, he’ll probably need more. 

Dodger, who usually follows Chris everywhere, followed him back to the living room. Though, instead of cozying up with Chris as you expected, the dog comes back and lies down with you. Of course, you’d created a bond with the dog over the years Chris had had him, and it is no wonder the dog likes you because you do spoil him, but to this extent, you had no idea. 

And it might just ruin the idea of surprising (read: scaring) Chris. 

However, it doesn’t seem like Chris notices. He’s too caught up in the movie he’s watching, and weirdly enough, gets up once more very quickly after it’s started. With another peek, you notice he didn’t take with him the chocolate cover. 

That isn’t so weird when he comes back into the living room, with _another_ box of ice cream. Your mind works on autopilot, catching you off guard as your voice rings across the room, “ **do you really need all that ice cream?** ” 

Chris jumps where he sits, clutches his chest and looks over his shoulder where your head comes up. He huffs, which turns into an amused chuckle and a smile. “When did you get here?” he asks, a frown coating his face. 

“A few minutes before you,” you say, shrug and get up from your _awful_ hiding spot. Though you did blow your own cover―which did get a reaction―so you guess the spot itself has nothing to do with it. “Thought Dodger here would blow my cover,” you say and scratch the dog’s head, “turns out I would do that.”

“Ice cream?” asks Chris then, and smiles at you whilst tilting the box. 

You get around and slump down at the other end of the couch from him. “Wouldn’t mind that, no.” 

“C’mere, then,” he says and opens his arms for you to sit with him. You bite your lip, your heart doing a flip, and move to lie in his arms. As you settle, he takes a spoonful and says, “open up.” 

With a laugh you do. The ice cream melts on your tongue, and you smile at him as he takes a spoonful for himself. “You just finished one, do you really need more?” you ask, because you actually want to know the answer. 

He chuckles. “Wanted ice cream, okay?” He takes another spoonful. 

“So you eat two whole pints, alone?” You move, so that instead of lying with your back against his chest, you sit in between his legs. With perfect view of lovely blue eyes and plus, pink lips. _God, why does the heat rush through your veins now?_

“I’m not, you got some.” 

“One spoon!” You smile incredulously at him. 

Chris shakes his head and takes another spoonful. “All you have to do is ask, you know?” The smile on his face says you won’t like the answer. 

Nonetheless, because of the way your body feels like it’s on fire from how close you sit, you want ice cream. “Well, then, can I have some?” 

He shakes his head. Another spoonful plopped into his mouth. “Nah,” he says. “Why would you get?” 

You punch him lightly in the chest. “You literally asked me if I wanted some,” you tell him. The moment he pulls the spoon from the box, you move and take it. The coolness feels good, making the bubbles in your gut stand down a little. 

“Hey!” he says. 

You shrug. 

“I was gonna eat that.” The pout on his lips is to die for. 

“Too bad, it’s gone.” You interject the next spoon, too. “In fact, it’s all gone.”

Chris glances between you and the ice cream. His face makes a grimace, as if he’s thinking about something. The smirk that grazes his lips has you press your own together. Blue eyes look at you, and he sits up a little further, making both more and less space between you―don’t ask how. “I have a proposition.”

You cock a brow. 

“I will share my ice cream with you,” he says, “but not with a spoon.”

At that, you frown and scrunch your nose. “Wh―How?” You blink at him. “How do you expect that to be possible? You want me to stuff my face in the box?”

His laugh echoes in the room. “No, I don’t want that.” His gaze locks with yours. Stupidly, _perfect_ blue eyes. “I was thinking of something else.”

“Like what? A fork? A knife? A straw?” 

Your list of objects prompts another laugh, though not as much as before. “No, more like…” He looks down in his lap. Your gut churns at the sight, because _god, is he really allowed to be this cute?_

“Like what?” It’s kind of annoying how he doesn’t seem to want to say it, whatever it is. 

“Through, uhh… akiss,” he says. The last part sounds like he sneezed, something you’re pretty sure he didn’t because of how low it was. Though what he said doesn’t make any sense either way, so you try again by arching a brow. 

Chris takes in a deep breath. “A kiss.”

If your jaw isn’t at floor level, it’s at hell level―that’s under the Earth’s surface, right? You can’t have heard that correctly. No definitely not. That can’t be right. 

But the way his face falls when you don’t answer, has your heart beat so fast and the stress of telling him yes become so much all you manage to say is, “uh…”

Chris looks away. “Forget I said anything.” He drags a hand through his hair. “I’ll go get you a spoon.” 

He’s about to stand up, move his leg from where its stuck between yours and the back of the couch, but you press your hands to his chest and push him down. “You have to have ice cream in your mouth first, though.”

The smile that crosses Chris’s face is brighter than any other you’ve seen from him. He takes a spoonful, a _big_ spoonful and takes it into his mouth. And, with some hesitation because _emotions_ , you move to place your lips on his. 

His beard scrapes a little against your lips, but you don’t mind. Definitely not when he opens his mouth and the sweet, _cold_ taste of vanilla hits you. Chris moves the ice cream out of the way, his hand quickly behind your back, pressing you closer to him. A hand at your jaw, cupping your face. 

You smile into the kiss. The bubbles pops in your gut, and you move closer to him, gaining better access as you straddle his lap. You can feel his smile, too. The way his lips draw upwards, how the kiss falters slightly too become messy and weird, and you pull away to grin and laugh. 

Chris presses a soft kiss to your lips. Sweet, still tasting vanilla but less cold―and less saliva. Pulling away, he brushes your hair behind your ear. Blue eyes take you in, flits over your face and your smile grows. 

“More?” you say, and tuck your lip into your mouth to keep from smiling too big. 

Either way, Chris seems to understand what it is you want. He presses a quick kiss to your lips and then he gets up, taking with him the ice cream, the spoon and the chocolate cover. “Be right back,” he says. Staring after him, your heart beats rapidly in your chest. 

_Finally_ , you think, _did that really happen?_

Chris comes back quickly. He turns off the TV, plops down beside you and pulls you onto his lap again. His hands rest on your hips, right by the lining of your pants. Something that has you bite your lip back because it really is doing _something._

“Still want more?” he asks, smirk playing on his lips. 

You roll your eyes and playfully hit him in the chest, your features pulled into an amused smile. “Yes, but you have to actually give _more_.” With how his reaction is to press his lips together and holding back what sounds like a whimper, you believe he got the innuendo. 

Lips meet lips again. This one doesn’t start slowly, or hesitant. Rather it’s filled with hunger and thirst, filled with _need_. A scorching sensation under his touch as his hands move upwards, lifting the hem of your shirt. Your hand moves into his hair, tugging at the strands. You other hand holds onto his neck, holding his head in perfect place to deepen the kiss, and high enough to twine the ends of his neck hair in your fingers. It elicits a low moan from him, making you smile and tug slightly harder. That comes with a low guttural _growl._

His tongue darts across your bottom lip, but instead of giving him easy access, you gently tug his head back with the hand you have in his hair. Your mouth glides down along his jaw, finding spots to nibble and suck along his neck and collarbone, which prompts another low moan. Chris’s hands move further up your top, finds the hem of your bra and plays with it.

Your breath hitches at the sensation and you hover over his neck. You move your mouth back to his, giving him a quick kiss and move your head to his ear. “You can take it off,” you say hoarsely, voice low and tinted with arousal. 

With that uttered, Chris’s fingers expertly unclasp your bra. Long, calloused fingers take a hold of the straps over your shoulders and slowly, _agonizingly slow_ , drag them down your arms. Annoyed at the time he uses, you help by grabbing under your shirt and dragging it off, tossing it to the floor without a second’s thought. 

Chris smiles. “Impatient, are we?”

You answer by placing your lips on his again, this time forcing your tongue into his mouth. His hands go back to your side, roaming across your stomach and up to your breasts. He stops, fingers outlining them and not actually _doing anything_. 

“Are you nervous or just stupid?” you ask, breaking the kiss and looking into his beautiful blue eyes. 

He nods, making you huff and shake your head. At that, he pulls you close again, lips brushing past yours to connect with your neck. By a quick search, he finds a sensitive spot, eliciting a stifled moan. One of his hands moves down from under your shirt, trailing the lining of your pants, and down to rub up and down your thigh.

Impatience overtaking your senses, you move your own hands to the hem of his shirt. You take a hold and drag it up, and though he lets out a chuckle as you drag it over his head, he helps. And you take the opportunity to connect your lips with his again. 

From there, it takes little amount of time before there are clothes everywhere, and he’s carrying you into his bedroom, your legs wrapped around his waist and his strong arms secured under your ass. 


End file.
